


Melt

by DictionaryWrites2



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 05:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18794188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites2/pseuds/DictionaryWrites2
Summary: Crowley snored softly, and Aziraphale considered picking him up and moving him over to the bed. He did need to sit down. And it was very unfair of Crowley, anyway, to come in and take up his armchair and sleep in it.It smells like you, supplied a note of endearing logic from the back of his mind. Your bed doesn’t.





	Melt

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: ☀️ and crowley wearing aziraphale's clothes?
> 
> Put a ☀️ and a prompt in my ask for a minifill!

There was a part of Aziraphale - a rather loud part of him, actually - that wanted to complain. Crowley always fussed over his clothes, said that his jumpers were ugly, that he looked  _fusty_ , or old, that they were out-of-date and out-of-fashion, that he didn’t  _like_  them. He almost wanted to say, “it’s very unfair of you, you know, to say all that, and then do  _this_.”

Almost.

Crowley’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was even where he curled up in Aziraphale’s armchair. He was utterly naked, except for one of Aziraphale’s cardigans, which was all but  _draped_  over his body, the sleeves about right on his arms, but with a good deal of give about the lithe, lightly-muscled limbs, and the cardigan itself folded over his chest. His legs were awkwardly folded beneath his body, and his head was tipped back, his lips slightly open. 

Aziraphale could see the tantalising V of fabric, coming down and bearing Crowley’s collarbones and the upper part of his chest, and Aziraphale took a step forward, coming closer.

Crowley snored softly, and Aziraphale considered picking him up and moving him over to the bed. He did  _need_  to sit down. And it was very unfair of Crowley, anyway, to come in and take up his armchair and  _sleep_ in it.

 _It smells like you_ , supplied a note of endearing logic from the back of his mind.  _Your bed doesn’t_.

Aziraphale smiled, and he set his book down on the table beside the chair, reaching beneath Crowley and gently lifting him up. Crowley hissed some somnolent protest, but when Aziraphale sat down, lowering the demon into his lap, they faded into nothingness, and Crowley tucked his face in against Aziraphale’s neck.

He heard Crowley inhale deeply, and restrained a chuckle as - seemingly still asleep - Crowley’s tongue darted from his mouth, catching at the underside of Aziraphale’s neck.

Crowley melted further, blanketing Aziraphale in his place, his nose sharp against his neck, and Aziraphale absently patted his hip as he took up his book again. 


End file.
